


Your Christmas Gift

by brokenemotions



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Christmas fic, christmas theme, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenemotions/pseuds/brokenemotions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very short Christmas Holmes story. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Christmas Gift

The room was quiet. Holmes had left in a hurry on another case. The detective had asked Watson to come along but for some reason the doctor blurted out, “no, go without me. I think I’ll rest here for the rest of this Christmas night.” Holmes of course didn’t ask any questions and walked out in a hurry. Watson leans back in his chair, sipping his brandy as he watches the flames in the fireplace slowly die out. There was an ache inside him. One he wished that the alcohol could burn away. The tears seem to mist over Watson’s eyes as he watched the small flames dance. The silence of the room seemed to overwhelm him. Why was his emotions taking such a strange turn tonight? Could it be that he wanted more than anything to spend the day with Holmes? If only that man could stay put for one day and just…Just what? Act like a friend? Talk about nothing. Laugh over everything. Take a break for a day and be friends. This is the great Sherlock Holmes we are talking about, Watson knew better.

 

The man clears his throat than puts his drink down on the table beside him. He reaches down next to his chair and picks up a small box wrapped in a red and green design. He stares at the box for some time, debating on whether or not to throw the thing in the fire. Why in the world had he bought it in the first place? Holmes told him out right, December 1st, “not to get him a single thing for Christmas.” So why was he holding this item in his hands now? Watson pursed his lips, rocking the gift in his hand. The doctor finally gets up and tosses the box into the fire. He stands watching it burn, watching the dying flames suddenly come to life again. The crackling seemed to bring great pleasure to him. Anything to break the haunting silence. He gives a quick fake smile like he’s trying to fool his mind into thinking this was the right choice and that he’s happy with it. He than reaches over, grabs his brandy and watches the fire consume his gift for Holmes.  
But after a few seconds Watson’s hand begins to tremble, shaking the liquid as the realization comes to him, the gift wasn’t what he was trying to burn…it was the feelings he had for the detective…for his best friend. How could he ever be so stupid? How could it ever work between them? Even if Watson came out and said it, “I love you, Sherlock Holmes,” how could they go on? Not to mention the friendship that they’d be risking. Losing Holmes would be the worst possible end to this horrible confession. And it’s most likely that Holmes runs away if Watson ever came out and embraced his true feelings. The doctor was willing to do anything to prevent that from happening. Even if it meant keeping his love a secret.

Later that night Holmes walks into the dark silent room. The fire has burned out and the night overcame the small flat. Holmes slides off his coat and hangs it on the hook than makes his way to the kitchen to continue his experiments. Of course he couldn’t sleep with so much on his mind. The new case is sure to be a fine one indeed. It was too bad that Watson had rejected his invitation. But the detective plans to fill his friend in on it in the morning. After all, what is he without his doctor? Holmes smiled to himself at that thought. Before he got too riled up into his experiment he caught a glimpse of a head in the next room, the back of a head, Watson was still in his chair. He stands in thought for a moment. Should he wake Watson and put him to bed? Or leave him and let him be at peace were he had chosen to lay?  
In the end Holmes walks into the room, takes a match then kneels down to relight the fire but before he does, he notices something in the ashes. The detective moves the ash with his hand. It looks like wrapping paper, something obviously Watson had decided to burn. Nothing to get on the defense about. Than suddenly Holmes gets a whiff of burnt flesh, this puts the detective on high alert. He kneels next to Watson to examine him, admittedly noticing the man’s hand. Holmes takes his friends hand ever so gently to examine, as he does an object falls to the floor. The man’s eyes peer down at it, he picks it up and notes it as a watch. The very watch that he was dead set on getting when he was able to afford it but over the past couple of months that has been out of the question due to bills and money spent on case work.

"Oh," Holmes gawks silently. Of course, that’s why Watson took up practice again, that’s why the poor man has been working his arse off. The detective had forgotten all about their date. A Christmas just between two good friends. Something his friend was looking forward to all month and he had forgotten. You fool. Holmes thinks to himself, shaking his head.  
Holmes twirls the watch in his hands as he watches his friend sleep soundly, a smile slowly forms on his lips. How did he become so lucky? To go from having people make fun of him, HATE him, to having this incredible man love him and care for him. Surely he doesn’t deserve it. Of course he doesn’t deserve it…and yet…here he is, that very man, sleeping soundly in his flat.   
"How horrible of me…I forgot to get you something," Holmes whispers softly, almost to quiet to hear. Than the man gets up, leans over the armchair and kisses his friends lips ever so lightly. The detective’s heart plays a beat in his ears as he holds the kiss for a few minutes longer, feeling more alive in that moment than he has ever felt in his cold life. Then once Holmes knew his friend was on the verge of wakening, he pulls away slight and whispers against John Watson’s lips, 

"Merry Christmas, John."

_End


End file.
